


You're the Bees' Knees

by meils121, rohkeuttart (rohkeutta)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Bad Puns, Beekeeping, Bees, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Dogs, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 10:43:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18991063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohkeutta/pseuds/rohkeuttart
Summary: When people ask Bucky how he manages all the work that comes with beekeeping - especially since he still considers it his hobby - he generally smiles and says, “The bees do most of the work.”Or:  The story of how Bucky Barnes, beekeeper, meets and falls in love with Steve Rogers, maker of bad bee puns.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to be posting this! A huge thank you to rohkeutta - your art is AMAZING and you have been lovely to partner with this year in the RBB! 
> 
> Thank you to RavenclawWitch18 for beta-ing and making sure my fic made sense!
> 
> And thank you to the mods of the Cap RBB for making this another awesome experience! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this fic, bee puns and all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rohkeutta on [tumblr](http://rohkeutta.tumblr.com) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/badrohmance)


	2. Chapter 2

            It’s not so much a farm as it is an old farmhouse on a couple acres of hilly hayfields, but it’s close enough for Bucky.  It’s got a ramshackle red barn and a wide porch that’s just perfect for a couple of rocking chairs and a mostly functional interior, give or take a couple of rooms.  There’s a big old oak tree in the front yard with a tire swing still attached.  Bucky would be lying if he said that wasn’t a major factor in his decision to buy the house.  A crotchety old barn cat named Mojo comes with the house, mostly because she is not a cat to be messed with and is settled in her ways.  There are raspberry bushes and a patch of earth meant for a small vegetable garden and a narrow creek that runs down the north side of the property.  All in all, it’s one of those places that just seems _right._

            Bucky buys the property right after he gets the all-clear for his arm, right about four years ago now.  He’d quickly realized that city life was no longer for him, not when every siren has him ducking for cover and every car backfire makes him think he’s under attack.  Not when the press of people - once providing a comfortable anonymity - turns into an anxiety attack waiting to happen.  The farmhouse is located on the outer limits of Durham Lake, a tiny little town with less than two thousand people.  He’s an oddity for a couple of months - the new guy in town and all that - but eventually he just turns into the helpful guy who works at the hardware store. 

            Bucky names the farmhouse and surrounding property Nob Hollow. He plants green beans in the vegetable patch and sets about making friends - or at least acquaintances - with Mojo.  He gets a dog within a couple months, an affectionate rescue he names Sadie. He even gets a couple of beehives in a bid to find something to do.

            By now, the beehives have grown in number to twelve, standing tall out in the field.  Bucky finds beekeeping oddly relaxing.  He spends his free time - hours of it - tending to the hives. Over the summer it’s inspecting the hives and making sure they have plenty of food sources and that the queens are alive and well and that there aren’t mites or other issues within the hives.  He does his best to prevent the hives from swarming, though he quickly learns that sometimes there isn’t anything anyone can do about that.  By the time autumn has set in, he’s busy extracting and bottling honey, and then it’s time to set up at holiday markets and pop-up sales. 

            Life at Nob Hollow is peaceful and if not worry-free, then definitely less stressful than Bucky has experienced in a very long time.  His plan had been to only stay there for a year or two, but he’s made a life out in the countryside now and he’s not sure if he’ll ever walk away from it.  He _likes_ knowing everyone in town and having the waitress at the diner know his order before he even walks in the door.  His sister thinks he’s lost his mind, but his ma pats his hand and says, “As long as you’re happy.”  And Bucky is happy, except when he gets stung, but that happens less and less now that he’s getting better at the whole beekeeping thing.

            It’s two Saturdays into May, and Bucky - sadly - is up at the crack of dawn and skipping his weekend ritual of chocolate chip pancakes and bacon at the diner to pack up his pickup truck with boxes of bottled honey. There’s some fancy market going on in a wealthy suburb of the city, the sort of place where he can jack up the price per bottle and make a decent enough profit that he doesn’t feel bad about giving so much honey away the rest of the year.

 

            Good ol’ Dottie - his truck - packed up, Bucky grabs his coffee mug and heads out, reassuring Sadie that Marge from down the street will let her out in a couple hours and he’ll be back before too long.  It’s a good hour’s drive to the place the market is being held, and he’s still got to have time to set up before the doors open at nine. 

            It’s a sunny and a warmer-than-usual morning, and Bucky has his window rolled down as he drives.  He keeps the music a little lower than normal, given how early it is, but he doesn’t tone down his singing at all, figuring the noise Dottie makes will drown out his awful voice.  

 

            The market is in one of those neighborhoods that used to be fancy, then went downhill, then became fancy again.  It’s in a building with a name like Horsefeathers or Birdsprings or something like that.  The weirder the name, the more he can charge per bottle.  

            The place is already bustling by the time Bucky gets there, full of other sellers setting up their tables and getting their samples ready.  Bucky’s own set-up doesn’t take long, mostly because he’s done enough of these markets to perfect the art of setting up.  He’s even got a few minutes left over to wander around and take a look at who else is selling today, greeting several familiar faces who tend to pop up at the same markets he does.  

            He’s busy from the time the doors open at nine on, offering samples and talking about his bees and his process (because people who care enough to buy local honey also care enough to find out how it’s made) and selling bottle after bottle of honey.  By lunchtime, he’s already exhausted but pleased with the amount he’s sold.

            “Ooh, honey.”  A man’s voice says.  Bucky turns, already smiling his customer-smile.  His face freezes when he realizes his face-to-face with none other than Captain America himself.  He blinks. This can’t be real. He’s a good hour from the city still, far enough away that most people just stick to what they can find from urban beekeepers.  

            Thankfully, the mostly professional side of him takes over. “Hi! Can I interest you in a sample of the wildflower honey?”

            The less-professional side of him takes in the muscles and smile and friendly eyes of the man in front of him and thinks, _damn_.

            “Yeah, that’d be awesome.”

            Bucky hands Captain America a sample and waits, somewhat worriedly, as he tries it.  

            “This is amazing.”  He says.  “So flavorful and sweet.”

            Bucky smiles.  “Sweet beekeeper, sweet bees, sweet honey.”  He jokes. He does not expect to get a wink sent his way.

            “I can see that.”

            Bucky is pretty sure he is blushing from head to toe by the time he sends Captain America away with three bottles of his best honey.  Who knew the man was such a flirt?  And such a - a - a _cute_ flirt at that.

            But, Bucky reminds himself as he watches the other man make his way through the crowd, a bit of harmless flirting doesn’t exactly mean anything.  Even if some part of him really wanted to slip his cell number into the bag containing three bottles of honey he handed over.

            He shakes his head and tells himself to get a grip.  He’s got a line of customers to deal with. 

            When he hears _that voice_ again, it’s a few tables over, sounding just as flirty.  Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t slip his number in with the honey.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

            When people ask Bucky how he manages all the work that comes with beekeeping - especially since he still considers it his hobby - he generally smiles and says, “The bees do most of the work.”

            And that, for the most part, is true. He tries to remember that as he hauls another hive stand out to his bee yard and gets to work preparing for the three new colonies of bees he’s got coming to replace the hives he lost over the winter. He gets his replacement colonies from an Amish farmer who lives an hour west of Durham Lake. He had picked up the colonies earlier that morning, and now it’s time to introduce the bees to their new homes. Except, of course, he put one of the hive stands in the wrong place, so now he’s lugging it across the bee yard to make sure it’s going to get the right amount of sunlight and not too much wind.  

            Bucky pauses for a minute after he gets the stand in place. Well past the beeyard, Sadie lays in the grass in a patch of sunlight, sleeping. Not a single car has driven by since Bucky arrived home half an hour ago. Even the steady hum of the bees is a comforting noise.  Peaceful.  Bucky remembers a time when he didn’t know what peaceful felt like anymore. Now it’s what he gets most of the time. 

            It doesn’t take all that much time to finish getting this last hive set up and the colony put into place.  Bucky steps back and surveys his bee yard. Twelve hives, all bustling with activity.  Now that the days are warmer and the wildflowers are starting to bloom, the bees will only get busier.  

            He makes his way out of the bee yard and puts his equipment back in the shed. Sadie perks up, knowing that Bucky taking off his bee suit means that he’ll start paying attention to her and not the things that hurt when she tries to eat them. Bucky’s considered getting her a doggie bee suit, but knowing her, she’d try to eat that too.

            “Come here, girl.” Bucky holds out his arms and is practically knocked over as Sadie barrels into him. She drops her tennis ball at his feet and dances around him.  Bucky grins down at her. “Okay.” He says. “We can play for a bit.”

            Sadie has more energy than any one living thing should have, though, and it takes a good half hour of throwing the ball and then chasing her around the fields before she finally tires. She flops onto the ground. Bucky joins her, sinking onto the grass and enjoying the light breeze that’s stirring the hay not far away.

            Bucky’s happy. He’s got Sadie, and Mojo, and his farm, and his bees. But, lately, he’s been feeling like something is missing. Deep down, he knows exactly what that something is, but he’s not quite ready to admit it to himself. Bucky’s found a way to move past pain and hurt.  He’s scared any major changes will set him back. And dating is definitely a major change, given that he’s been single since before he was deployed.

            He sighs and lays down in the grass, the blades tickling his skin. Above him, the sky is a bright blue.  A blue that reminds him of a certain Avenger’s eyes. And isn’t that just something. It figures that all it took was a cute smile and a few nice words to have Bucky daydreaming about getting to know the supersoldier better. It’d be embarrassing if Bucky wasn’t so positive that he’s never going to see Captain America in person again. After all, that’s not the sort of thing that happens every day. Lightning never strikes twice, or something like that.  

 

\----------------------------

 

            Lightning, as it turns out, can strike twice. Bucky near about drops a bottle of honey he’s in the process of bagging when he sees Captain America stroll up to his table at a market just a couple of weeks later.  

            “Hey.”

            “Hi.” Bucky says. “Don’t tell me you made it through all that honey already.”

            The other man shoves his hands in his pockets and looks vaguely embarrassed. “Uh, no.”  He says.  There’s a slightly awkward pause, then, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

            Oh. Cool. Bucky is apparently on a first name basis with Captain America.  “Bucky.”  He says, and his voice doesn’t crack. It doesn’t.

            Steve smiles. “I might have looked you up to see where else you were selling.” He admits.  “It was good - really good. And no, I didn’t eat it all.”

            That - that almost sounds like an admission. Bucky wonders if Steve really did just want to see him again. It seems so impossible, so unlikely, and yet here they are.

            “Well.”  Bucky says. “If you’ve still got honey, you’ll have to try some of my other stuff.”  He’s got little honey-filled pixie sticks that are always popular with the kids, and he’s branching out recently with his beeswax candles and soaps. They’re more work than he really needs right now, but there’s something so relaxing about making them that Bucky doesn’t quite care.

            Steve buys another bottle of honey - “So I don’t run out.” - and three bars of soap. He also hangs around the table for a few more minutes after he’s paid, asking the sorts of questions about beekeeping that prove he’s already done his research on the topic.

            “You can always stop by sometime.” Bucky says, half-joking. He makes the offer fairly often, always willing to share his experience with curious newcomers to the hobby.

            “I’d like that.” Steve says earnestly. A tiny little bit of hope blooms in Bucky’s chest that this isn’t the last time he’s going to see Steve. It’s ridiculous, he knows, but that’s okay. A guy’s gotta dream, after all.

            When lightning strikes a third time, Bucky starts to wonder if Steve likes him or is just straight up stalking him.

            “What’s today’s excuse?” Bucky asks as Steve eyes the honey sticks.

            “You didn’t give me your number.” Steve answers, smooth as can be. Bucky’s response - choking on his own spit - isn’t nearly as smooth.

            “I - what?”

            Steve grins, looking a bit smug that he caused that reaction. “What would you say to a coffee date sometime?” He asks. “If you’re interested.”

            “I’m interested.” Bucky blurts out before realizing how fucking desperate that sounds. Oh well. Too late to take it back now.  

            Luckily, Steve doesn’t seem turned off by Bucky’s less-than-smooth response. His smile widens and he hands Bucky his phone so he can put his number in.

            “I live a ways out from here.” Bucky warns Steve.  

            “That’s okay.” Steve says, and the briefest flicker of what could be sadness flashes in his eyes. “I need a break from the city sometimes.”

            They agree on the following Tuesday, deciding to meet halfway between Durham Lake and the city. Steve lingers for a few more minutes, but says his goodbyes when Bucky’s table starts getting busy again.  

           

\----------------------

 

            “Please, Becca?”  Bucky says. He rifles through his closet for the fifth time, hoping beyond hope that somehow a nice sweater magically appeared since the last time he looked. It hasn’t. “What do I wear?”

            “Mm, how about the bee suit?” Becca asks. She sounds distracted - and probably is, because she’s definitely not taking this particular crisis as serious as she needs to.

            “Ha ha.  Very funny.” Bucky says. “How about actual advice?”

            There’s a long pause. Long enough, in fact, that Bucky checks to make sure he hasn’t accidentally hung up on her.

            “What about the shirt you wore for Ma’s birthday?” Becca asks. “That blue and grey checked one. And some nice jeans, if you still own any.”

            Bucky digs through the closet and comes up with the shirt in question. “Yeah, okay.” He says after a moment’s consideration.

            “So, are you going to tell me who the mystery guy is?” Becca asks, suddenly much less distracted now that Bucky’s wardrobe crisis has ended and she can shift the conversation.

            “Steve Rogers.” Bucky says as chill as he can, even if he’s still freaking out about the whole thing.

            “I - wait. _The_ Steve Rogers? Like Mr. Patriotic himself?”

            “Gotta go, Becs. Thanks for the fashion advice!” Bucky makes an obnoxious kissy noise at the phone and hangs up. The phone rings again almost immediately, but he ignores it.

            Finally dressed, he spends the next fifteen minutes fussing over his hair until he can get it pulled back just so. He’s afraid of running into traffic or getting lost, so he heads out ten minutes earlier than he really needs to. That turns out to work out perfectly, though, because he’s just hopping out of his truck when a sleek sports car pulls up next to him and out steps Steve looking fine as hell.

            “Bucky!”  Steve says. He steps forward like he’s about to give Bucky a hug and then changes his mind, sticking out his hand to shake. “Good to see you.”

            “You too.” Bucky says. They walk into the cafe, one of those so-called unique places that actually looks like every other coffee shop in the world. Steve insists on paying for both of them. Bucky tries arguing, but Steve just might be the most stubborn person he’s ever met, so eventually he cedes.

            Coffee and breakfast treats in hand, they find a table by the window and settle in. Bucky’s expecting some awkwardness or weirdness, given that they really know nothing about each other.  He’s always hated this part of first dates.

            Steve, though, just turns on the charm and has Bucky relaxed and laughing in a matter of minutes. Two boys from Brooklyn - even after all this time and distance - are still two boys from Brooklyn. They bypass most of the awkward getting to know each other questions. Steve asks about the farm and the bees. Bucky - because his curiosity gets the better of him - asks about what it’s really like to be an Avenger and if Iron Man is really that _much_.

            They end up spending a couple of hours talking, long enough that Bucky gets up at one point to buy them lunch. Steve makes way too many bee puns, but he looks so damn happy and cute when he laughs that Bucky only groans a little.

            Eventually, though, they have to part. “This was bee-yond wonderful.” Steve says with a straight face.  Bucky rolls his eyes but grins.

            “You’re un-bee-lievable.” He responds, because he definitely can play that game.

            “Maybe -” Steve pauses, looking shy. “Maybe we can do this again sometime?”

            “I’m free this time next week.” Bucky offers. He’s surprised to see that Steve seems less tense all of the sudden, like he had been worried Bucky would say no.

            “I’d like that.” Steve says. This time, he does hug Bucky, and _oh_ , is it a nice hug.  Bucky’s a little dazed when Steve pulls away, and he didn’t even kiss him.  

 

\----------------------------

 

            The coffee dates turn into a regular thing after that. They meet up at least once a week, and Bucky’s putting a lot of miles on old Dottie but he doesn’t care. He’s falling - fallen - hard for Steve, and he’s pretty sure Steve feels the same way. Pretty sure.

            And that’s the thing. Steve never suggests something beyond the coffee dates. And Bucky kinda gets that. He gets that Steve has a life, and a busy one at that. He doesn’t want to push for more right now, not when things seem to be going so well. Still, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want more.  

            And then - Steve cancels. Says he’s had a mission pop up unexpectedly and he can’t make it.  Bucky assures him it’s fine, that he gets it. He does, mostly, but he can’t help but feel disappointed. A part of him even wonders if Steve is using this as a way to let Bucky down slowly. A week goes by, then two, without word from Steve, and Bucky’s begun to think he’s not going to hear anymore from him.

            He calls Becca and she puts up with him rambling about all of this. She doesn’t have much advice beyond, “He is a superhero, Buck”, but she makes him feel better anyways. Bucky hangs up with her and heads to bed, not sure what he’s supposed to do.

            Bucky wakes up with a start. Groggily, he feels around for his phone and discovers it’s just past five in the morning. Too early for a day he doesn’t have to head out to a market. He grumbles, wondering if Sadie has woken him up. But when he sits up, she’s barely awake, head propped up on her pillow and sleepy eyes tracking him.

            Bucky’s about to dismiss it as wind or the creaks of an old house, but then he hears another noise. It’s a knock, almost as if someone is at his front door. The knock grows more insistent. Bucky hesitates for a moment - because who the hell is knocking at five in the morning? - but when it becomes clear he’s not going to be able to ignore the noise, he rolls out of bed and goes to investigate.

            One glance through the front window has his heart quickening, because the figure on his doorstep can only be Steve. He opens the door in a hurry. Steve is still in uniform, a grimace just barely visible on his face in the early morning light.  He looks -

            Defeated. The word pops into Bucky’s head and he wonders what the hell happened to make Steve look like that.

            “Hey.” Bucky says gently. Steve looks up at him, opening his mouth to say something.  Nothing comes out. His shoulders hunch up and he draws in on himself, like he’s trying to appear smaller.

            Steve’s car is parked in the driveway behind him, and Bucky wonders how he managed to drive a good couple of hours in this state. But that’s a question for later, when Steve is talking.

            “Okay.” Bucky says. He’s seen this before, in the guys in his squad. Sometimes, after a mission, things just turn overwhelming. Steve looks shell-shocked. Bucky knows that questions aren’t going to help things. “Come on, Steve. Let’s get you inside.”

            Steve follows him, letting Bucky settle him in on the couch with one of the warm quilts Bucky has laying around the room. His fingers clutch the edge of the quilt so hard they start to turn white.

            Bucky leaves Steve there and heads to the kitchen. He starts up the coffee maker for himself and sets out to make Steve a mug of hot chocolate. It takes a few minutes, but when he returns to the living room he finds that Steve hasn’t moved an inch. Steve stares at the offered mug for a good few seconds before seeming to realize what it is and letting go of the quilt with one hand to take it.

            Bucky lets him drink the hot chocolate in silence. He’s been where Steve is right now. Bombarding him with questions is going to do exactly nothing except stress him out more. He settles in a chair opposite Steve, giving him plenty of room.

            It takes several long minutes, but eventually Steve finishes his drink and starts to talk. “I’m tired.” He says. “All I do is see the worst of humanity, over and over and _over_. I hate it.”

            Bucky doesn’t say anything. He lets Steve’s words settle over both of them, lets Steve hear out loud what’s been running through his head for God knows how long. There’s a long pause before Steve suddenly heaves out a sob.

            “I _hate_ it.” He says again, the words shouted into the quiet morning. “I just want to be Steve again.”

            Bucky stands and slowly crosses the room, giving Steve plenty of time to tell him to stop. But he doesn’t, so Bucky sits down next to him and lets him cry into his shoulder and pour out the years - decades - of hurt and sorrow and anger that Steve’s dealt with for so long.

            By the time sunlight has started entering the room, Steve has long-since run out of words and tears. He slumps, exhausted, on the couch.

            “How about you try and get some sleep?” Bucky offers. Steve doesn’t say anything, just nods and curls up on the couch, his feet hanging over the edge a bit. Bucky fusses over him for a moment, making sure the quilt is covering him, before letting him drift off to sleep.

            It’s not until Steve’s gentle snores are drifting through the house that Bucky stops and thinks about what just happened. Through the process of getting dressed and making himself some scrambled eggs and feeding Sadie he’s lost in his thoughts. Because Steve - Steve, who he likes; Steve, who is still a mystery; Steve, who is in his _living room_ \- came here. Bucky may not know every side of Steve, but he knows being a soldier and knows what it’s like to carry all that weight day in and day out. He knows how hard it is to let your guard down. But Steve did just that, and he chose to come to Bucky’s place to do it. Bucky is left to wonder what that means. And it has to mean something, he thinks, because there’s no way in hell Steve was just in the neighborhood.

            Steve is still snoring when Bucky decides he might as well just go along with his plans for the day. Steve needs sleep more than anything right now. Bucky heads outside. It’s already warm, promising a hot day, but the sun is shining and there’s a gentle breeze. Sadie charges in front of Bucky, eager to find Mojo and optimistic as ever that she won’t get a bop across the nose for her overly-enthusiastic greetings.

            Doing all the chores on his list takes several hours. Bucky doesn’t much mind, though.  Truth be told, he likes the steady rhythm of working. It gives him time and space to think and to process. It’s what got him through those first few months as he adjusted to life with a prosthetic arm. Now, it’s a comforting routine.

            He checks the barn to make sure Mojo has food and water. She allows him to pet her exactly twice before jumping up and stalking away. He’s got a couple hives to work on this morning. One’s been giving him trouble from the start. It lost its queen, but luckily Bucky had been paying attention and was able to order a new one before he lost the whole hive. It’s been a couple weeks since he placed her in the hive. She and the other bees should have eaten their way through the candy seal on her cage by now, and hopefully all the bees were used to the new queen by the time she emerged. Bucky just wants to do a quick check to make sure.

            Another hive is looking overly crowded, so he wants to set up a thirteenth hivestand to give them a place to go if they swarm. The chances that they actually take him up on his offer of a new home are low - because, as he’s long since learned, bees are an unpredictable bunch - but he wants to get it ready just in case.

            Once the bees are taken care of, he turns his attention elsewhere.  He’s behind on basic yard work, and he wants to get that fire pit built sometime soon. He figures he’ll work until it gets too hot or until Steve emerges, whichever comes first.

            Bucky heads back inside mid-morning to refill his water bottle. He’s just heading back outside when his phone buzzes.  He answers it, even though he doesn’t recognize the number.

            “Hello?”

            “This Barnes?”  It’s a woman’s voice, sharp and slightly stressed. 

            “Yeah.” Bucky shifts the phone to his other ear. “Who is this?”

            “Natasha.” The woman says, and for a moment Bucky is confused.  But then things start clicking into place, and before he can freak out about the _Black Widow_ calling him, Natasha continues. “Clint seems to think that Steve might be with you.”

            Bucky glances into the living room, where Steve is still passed out on the couch. “Yeah.”  He confirms. “Showed up at the crack of dawn. Looked like shit. He’s sleeping now.”

            Natasha’s voice is softer when she next speaks. “Good. He’s -” She pauses. “I’ll let him tell you. Thanks for keeping an eye on him.” She hangs up before Bucky has the chance to say anything in reply.

            Now he’s got more things to mull over. He heads back out into the yard and pulls on his work gloves and gets started on the fire pit.

            As he works, he wonders just how worried Natasha and the others must’ve been to go to the trouble to find his number and call. Bucky feels a little better knowing that they were at least worried, but truth be told he’s a little pissed that they just let Steve wander off in the sort of state he was in. Then he wonders if they are all as overwhelmed as Steve. It’s not a pretty thought, so he decides to focus on Steve and Steve alone. That’s who’s here. That’s who he can help.

            It’s just past noon when Bucky hears the screen door slam shut. He glances up to see Steve standing just outside the house. He looks - better, Bucky supposes, even if that’s pretty relative. Steve’s whole face relaxes when he sees Bucky.

            “Buck.” He says. “I - thank you.”

            “Anytime.” Bucky says, and means it. He doesn’t invite many people to the farm because he likes the fact it’s quiet and just his, but Steve - Steve looks like he needs it the way Bucky used to need it.

            Steve sighs and rubs a hand across his face. “I’m sorry.” He says. “I probably freaked you out.”

            “A bit.” Bucky agrees. “But I’ve been there. I get it.”

            Sadie - who had been sleeping in the shade underneath the big oak tree - wakes up and comes over, her tail waving merrily. Steve kneels down to pet her and gets a lick across the face in return.

            “We had a bad mission.” Steve says, unprompted. Bucky almost tells him he doesn’t have to tell him, but there’s a look on Steve’s face that makes him stop. Maybe Steve needs to get this out. “Everyone thinks that the baddest of bad guys are far away, but most of the time they’re right in our backyard. This guy - he was bad. Evil. And yeah, he’s gone, but tomorrow there will be a new threat. And then another one, and another one, and another one, until I die.”

            Bucky swallows. His heart hurts, actually hurts, as he listens to Steve’s words. “You’re a good guy.” He says. “And sometimes being the good guy is the worst job in the world.” He says this from experience. The good guys are supposed to fight the battles, win the war, and come home. Bucky left part of his body and part of his soul behind when he came home. He can’t imagine what Steve has lost.

            “Yeah.” Steve says with a nod. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

            Bucky lets him sit in silence for a few minutes before deciding to try and distract Steve from his thoughts. “Come on.” He says. “I’ve got some inspections to do.”

            Steve looks up. “What?” He says.

            “The bees.” Bucky says. “I’ve got a bee suit that should fit you. Hopefully.”

            Steve dutifully follows Bucky down to his bee shed, where he struggles to fit into the bee suit. It’s a little tight on him, but he should be fine. Bucky’s planning on looking at mostly calm hives today anyways.

            “I’ve never done this before.” Steve says as they head for the hives. Bucky’s got his smoker in one hand and inspection clipboard in the other.

            “Most people haven’t.” Bucky says. He hands Steve the clipboard and gets to work opening the first hive. “First thing to remember: the bees don’t want to sting you.”

            “They don’t?”

            “Nah.” Bucky pulls out a frame to show Steve. “It kills ‘em, remember? Treat bees with respect, and 80% of the time they’ll leave you alone.”

            “And the rest?” Steve asks.

            Bucky shrugs. “Sometimes, bees are just little jerks.”

            Steve huffs out a laugh. “Got it.”

            Bucky shows Steve how to inspect the hive, checking for any signs of illness and making sure they have enough space to continue living. He also manages to spot the queen, a rare occurrence if he’s being honest with himself. He’s more excited about it than a normal person would be, and when he looks up, he catches Steve just grinning at him.

            “What?”

            “Nothing.” Steve says. “It’s just - you really love this.”

            “Yeah.” Bucky agrees. He starts putting the hive back together. “It was my lifeline for a long time. And even if it isn’t that anymore, I still love doing it.”

            “I can tell.” Steve is quiet through the second inspection. As they finish and head back to the bee shed to ditch the bee suits, he seems to be mulling something over.

            Bucky rustles up some lunch and they eat their sandwiches outside under the big tree. Sadie sits at Steve’s side, completely won over by belly rubs and some snuck bites of his sandwich.

            “I’m sorry.” Steve says after a few minutes of companionable silence.

            “For what?”

            “For disappearing on you like that.” Steve rubs at his face. “I - I haven’t dated in forever because that always happens. I kept hoping that it wouldn’t with you. That somehow my job wouldn’t interfere with my life. And that wasn’t fair on you.” He falls silent for a moment. “I - I like you more than I’ve liked anyone else in a very, very long time. I was scared of messing up, but that’s what I did anyways.”

            Bucky takes a deep breath, heart pounding at Steve’s admission. “I like you too.” He says, because that seems like the most important thing to say right now. “And I’m not going to lie and say it didn’t suck when you just disappeared, because it did. But people make mistakes.”

            Steve manages a small smile. “Thanks.” He says. After a moment, his fingers brush against Bucky’s and they interlace their hands. Bucky leans in against Steve and savors this moment. He doesn’t know how long this will last, but a part of his heart is screaming for forever.

            Bucky invites Steve to spend a few days at the farm. He figures that Steve needs the peace and quiet, and he can certainly offer that. Steve is still withdrawn the first day or two, but slowly he starts returning to the upbeat person Bucky knew from before.

            They’re in the kitchen one night, making pancakes for dinner. Steve gets batter on his face somehow, and Bucky’s not about to question it. He leans in to get it off, and Steve wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer. “Can I?” He asks. All Bucky can do is nod.

            Steve leans in and kisses him. And _holy shit_ is it an amazing kiss, and Bucky’s not just saying that because it’s his first kiss in a hell of a long time.

            Somehow the pancakes - and they’re chocolate chip, so this probably means something major - get forgotten. Bucky lets Steve crowd him back against the wall. They kiss again, this one turning much more heated. Bucky breaks off the kiss with a low moan. “Steve.”  He breathes out. “ _Fuck._ ”

            Steve grins at him. “Yeah?” He asks, and _oh, this is happening._

            “Yeah.” Bucky says, and pushes his hips forward so he can grind against Steve. He savors the noise that Steve lets out.

            They don’t make it to the bedroom. They barely make it to the couch, and it’s pure luck that has them falling on soft cushions. Steve pulls Bucky over him so Bucky is straddling his waist.

            “Hey.” Bucky says. He runs his hands across Steve’s chest, pleased at how thin his tee shirt is. “I like you.” And this time it’s said when they’re both happy, and that makes a difference, Bucky thinks.

            “I like you too.” Steve says. And from him, it’s overly honest and eager, and something blooms in Bucky’s chest.

            Steve reaches up and cups the back of Bucky’s head, urging him closer so they can kiss again. Bucky loses himself in Steve, in his soft lips and strong body and gentle caresses. He learns that Steve blushes across his whole body, and it’s a damn beautiful sight. He finds out that Steve somehow knows all the right places to touch. Eventually the couch becomes uncomfortable. Bucky delights in the fact Steve just sweeps him up in his arms and carries him to Bucky’s bedroom.

            It’s late-bordering-on-early when they finally break apart. Steve kisses Bucky. “You’re amazing.” He says. Bucky’s about to respond when Steve adds,“And your ass is bee-utiful.”

            Bucky rolls over to stare at Steve. “Did you just make a bee pun about my ass?” He demands.

            “May-bee.”  Steve says, drawing out the end of the word. Bucky throws a pillow at him, laughing.

            “You’re the worst.” He says.

            They make the pancakes in the morning. If they take a few breaks to make out, well, there’s no one else here to see.

            That afternoon is rainy and dull. Not one to waste a day away, Bucky ropes Steve into helping him try out a new product to sell. He’s got a ridiculous amount of beeswax saved up from last fall’s harvest.

            “What are we doing again?” Steve asks as he watches Bucky get out the supplies.

            “Making beeswax candles.” Bucky says. “You can call yourself a honest-to-god farmer if you help.”

            Steve grins. “Is that how it works?” He asks, but he joins Bucky at the kitchen table.

  The candles aren’t actually all that hard to make - melt a little beeswax, add some coconut oil, and pour into the jars with the wicks prepared. The candles don’t take long to set, and before long they’ve got a couple burning.

            Curled up together on the sofa, Sadie at their feet, the candles flickering away, things feel right. Soon enough, Steve will have to return to his life and Bucky to his. Bucky doesn’t know what will happen, but he’s got a good feeling about things.

            He glances over at Steve, who smiles at him with that gorgeous, earnest smile of his. Yeah. Things are going to work out for both of them.  

 


End file.
